Clove's Story
by DaughterofEternity4
Summary: Part one: How Cato and Clove met for the first time. Part two: Just after Clove is reaped for the Hunger Games. Part three: Clove's death.
1. Chapter 1

No one noticed the small dark-haired girl open the door.

In a second she was climbing under tables, sneaking her way across the bar. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, but she didn't slow down.

There was something she needed to take care of.

Finally, she spotted him: a tall, muscly man with a tangled beard was standing in the corner of the bar, one hand around a woman and the other clutching his drink. The girl watched with narrowed eyes as the bearded man sprang forward to pick a fight with another man, casually flexing his biceps as he did so. The woman squealed excitedly and moved away from the bar counter for a better view of the brawl, leaving the man's drink unattended.

The girl tensed, and then ran for it.

Unstopping the tiny bottle she held in her hand, she glanced over her shoulder. No one was looking her way…she tipped the bottle over the rim of the drink, spilling its contents…

"What have we here?" The bearded man snatched the girl from behind, causing the bottle she was clutching to fall to the floor and smash. The girl stared up at the man with steely eyes, her nails digging into his arm.

"Let me go."

"Tell me what you were doing to my drink, little lady. Daddy wants to know."

Silence echoed uncomfortably through the bar. The girl stared defiantly up at the man—the man who had never, not once, treated her like family.

"_Let me go."_

"Hate to break it to you, sweetie, but I'm not stupid. Do you really think I'm going to set you free after you tried to _kill _me?" The man shook his head, grinning. "I think we need to teach you a lesson."

He grabbed the cup of poison and, spilling half of it onto the floor in the process, held it up ceremoniously for the entire bar to see. The woman clapped her hands to her mouth and cried, "she's just a child, for heaven's sake—"

"Just a child? _Just a child?" _The man rounded on the woman, slopping more of the drink down his front. "Murder is no child's game." He turned to the girl, a wicked grin on his face. "Drink up, Clovie. It'll be painless. You won't feel a—"

"Stop!" A voice rang out, piercing the suspenseful stillness that had settled over the bar.

"_Who dares to contradict me?" _The man's chest swelled, and his beady eyes swept the bar. For a moment, the girl sitting stock-still behind him was forgotten.

"_I _do." A blond head rose out of the crowd of silent people, attached to a muscly body. The girl couldn't help but give a small gasp.

"Ah." The man narrowed his eyes and appraised the hard-faced boy in front of him, nodding slowly. "You're King's boy, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I'm _King's boy. _The name's Cato. My dad's told me a lot about you, says you never leave the bar. Not been a very good parent lately, have you?

The man moved forward, and for a moment the girl thought he was going to take a swing at Cato—a second later, though, he stepped back and rubbed his knuckles together menacingly. "Well, you've certainly inherited you father's insolence. Now, preferably before tomorrow, tell me what you want to say. Hurry, boy, I haven't got all night."

"Well, I couldn't help but overhear you talking to your daughter.You've got a carrying voice, you know," Cato replied. "I was just outside the bar, and...anyway, I think you ought to give her a chance to fight back—she's been learning a few things at the Academy."

"She's only nine," the man sputtered. "If you really think…you can't possibly…boy, who do you think you're kidding? My daughter…she's never…"

"Why don't you let her at a knife, then, if you're not afraid of what she can do?"

The man grunted in protest, but pulled a pocket blade out of his jeans anyway and handed it grudgingly to the girl. "Fine. Clove, stand over by Cato and see if you can hit the seam in the wall panel behind me with the knife you're holding. You make it, I let you go and you leave this bar, you unnerstand? You fail, you pay the price." He held up the cup of poison and spat in it. "Let's begin."

Clove stepped slowly over to Cato, who didn't look at her when she stopped beside him. He was two years above her at the Academy, and they'd never talked before—she wondered why he'd even bothered to stick up for her. It wasn't like his life would be affected in any way if she was killed.

"_Let's begin," _the man growled.

Clove fingered the pocket blade, holding it in her hand just so. Cato's eyes were on her—the entire bar was waiting with bated breath, watching. The man's eyes bored into her, searching for any sign of fright or weakness. Clove almost laughed out loud.

In a second, it was over.

The blade had lodged itself flawlessly in the seam of the wall, where two of the panels connected. The man leaned forward to peer at the wall, as if he didn't quite believe what his daughter had just done. Clove felt Cato relax beside her, and stalked forward to yank the blade out of the wall.

"Your knife," she said stonily, dropping it unceremoniously into her father's palm. Without a backward glance, she swept past Cato and out into the night, slamming the bar door behind her.

Stealing away into a dark alley opposite the bar, Clove felt hot tears prick the corners of her eyes. She couldn't process what had just happened—she was in shock, she was going to start sobbing like a little baby again…

Footsteps sounded behind her.

"Clove?"

"He was _my dad, _Cato. He wasn't supposed to do that to me in front of everyone."

"Why'd you try to poison him, then?" Cato knelt down beside Clove, who was curled up on the asphalt of the alley.

"I can't take him anymore, that's why. He treats me like his slave. It's worse when he's drunk. Much worse." Clove shivered and buried her face in Cato's sleeve.

"Where did you get the poison?"

"I stole it from the apothecary that comes round our house when Dad's sick. She gives him meds from her cart, and…she wasn't looking, so I…"

Cato nodded. "Do you want me to walk you home?"

"I'm not going home. I'll go to Sage's and ask if I can stay with her for the rest of the month, until we go back to the Academy. I know she won't turn me down."

"Your dad'll be mad."

"I don't care. I'm _scared, _Cato. It doesn't matter what he said in that bar with all those people around, he's going to kill me if he sees me again." A fresh wave of tears consumed Clove and she began rocking back and forth, clutching her knees to her chest.

"Fine. Let's get you to Sage's," Cato replied, pulling Clove's elbow up. With his support, she managed to walk all the way across District Two's main square. The night was silent, and the alleys between the buildings around them were dark and ominous. Clove couldn't help but shudder as they passed the district orphanage, a large, square building set into the side of one of the hills in the center of town. Soon, they had left the orphanage behind them.

"Look at that," Cato breathed, stopping halfway across the square to stare up at something in front of him. "The Nut."

"The _what?" _

"The Nut. It's a mountain the Peacekeepers dug out, and they built barracks and arsenals inside it when they didn't have anything else to use it for. It's basically a military base." Cato stood staring up at the structure looming over him, blotting out the moon.

"Military base? I've never seen any soldiers around. What do they have to fight against?"

"Nothing," Cato mumbled, shaking his head. "I only know about this because my brother works in the Nut, and sometimes he tells me what it's like in there."

"What's it like?"

"I thought we were taking you to Sage's," Cato said roughly, stalking across the square with Clove in tow. "I told you, it's nothing."


	2. Chapter 2

"Why did you do this?" My body swells with an overwhelming sense of anger, panic, and confusion. "You're aware that the Hunger Games is a fight to the death, right?"

"I know." Cato runs his hand through his short yellowish hair, making it stand on end. "I wasn't even thinking when I volunteered, I just…I wanted to protect you, Clove."

"Stop with the sappy stuff!" I brace my hands on either side of the door, tempted to start bashing my head into the wall. "I know you care about me, but you didn't volunteer just so you could defend me in the arena. Only one of us can come out alive—you realize that, don't you?"

"I've been watching the Hunger Games every year since I could talk, Clove," Cato replies coolly, leaning against the doorjamb so that his face is inches from mine. "I think I know the rules."

"Stop doing this to me." I push him away and turn around to face the train window, scowling. "Stop trying to kiss me all the time, stop inviting me to your room whenever you pass me in the hall. It's…you're my friend, Cato, and you're absurdly stupid, but we can't…we can't have the kind of relationship you want."

"Is this any way to treat me? I saved your life six years ago, back when you were still living with your dad. Don't forget that. You owe me."

"I remember every minute of that day. I relive it in my nightmares! But you're right, Cato. I'm so glad you saved my life, because who would've known I'd be reaped for the Hunger Games six short years afterward? I've escaped one hellhole, only to fall into another one," I hiss.

"Clove, this is the chance you've been waiting for to prove your dad wrong," Cato says calmly. "You're not worthless. Show him you can fight back."

"So which angle do you want me to take up, then? Should I play the part of the helpless little girl, saved by her district partner in the arena? Or would I fare better as the independent knife-wielding brute, ready to kill anyone she comes across? Take your pick."

"Just be yourself," Cato says, shrugging. "You're good with knives, you've got a chance."

"You. Are. Unbelievable. Is this some kind of joke to you? In less than a month, one of us will be dead. Maybe both of us." Real tears are working their way out of my system, spilling out over my cheekbones. "I don't even expect to win, Cato. To tell you the truth…I just want them to be in my position, to feel how I felt when my father tried to beat the life out of me." Them being the tributes I'm locked into the arena with—I don't know them on a personal level, so it doesn't matter to me whether they're dead or alive.

"Clove, that's no way to be thinking," Cato says, grabbing me up into a hug. But his words are empty, the effort and zeal behind them halfhearted. If I die, Cato has a great chance of winning. Maybe it's just better for both of us if I stay out of the way—I'll have my fun in the arena, but someone will take me down. I won't stand a chance, and Cato will have a clear path to victory.

Now that I have vowed to lay down my life, I don't have a problem hugging Cato—or kissing him, for that matter. We stand motionless in my chamber until our mentors, Brutus and Ginger, come knocking on the door.

Our eyes meet for a second, and then hers flick away—but I've already made my decision. I don't think she understands just how much danger she's in; Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire, has just made an enemy. I smile crookedly, looking out over the audience, a laugh rippling up through my chest. I know that sponsors are already lining up to invest in Katniss, to root for her, to cheer on the unlikely little duo from District 12. It pains me to see the Capitol citizens fawning over them when they could be fawning over us. Me and Cato. It pains me to have to look tough for the cameras, for my dad, when all I want is to break down and sob my heart out.

Katniss may be the girl on fire, but I am the girl with the knives. The girl with the temper, the girl with the traumatizing past, the girl who was too weak to fight back.

Until now, that is.


	3. Chapter 3

The sun peeks over the treetops, alerting us to the fact that dawn is approaching. My hand immediately goes to my jacket pocket, where I'd strapped the knives I'd collected from the Cornucopia—just after the initial bloodbath. Cato's fingers tighten around the hilt of his sword, and his brow creases. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Go," I mouth, and he takes off. I can see the trail his footprints make through the mud around our meeting place as he rushes off in the opposite direction, on the lookout for Thresh, for Redhead, for Katniss and Peeta. I turn around to face the Cornucopia again, where a table has risen from the ground—a table containing the very thing Cato and I need desperately, or so Claudius Templesmith says.

Before I can even take two steps forward, Redhead comes flying out of the Cornucopia's mouth and snatches her designated backpack from the table. My hand closes around the hilt of my favorite knife, but she's too far away—I can't stick her now, it's futile. I can only hope that Cato finds her and finishes her off. I hunch low in the underbrush, a crooked smile distorting my features, my feet positioned to run forward. Katniss is bound to make her move soon, and when she does I'll be ready.

Moments later, she comes barreling onto the plain, straight past the Cornucopia. I dart forward, flinging my knife at her as I run. It slices her forehead, but she keeps running—she grabs her designated backpack and manages to shoot an arrow at me, which I easily sidestep. After uttering a small scream of frustration, I kick her to the ground and sit on her, jamming my fist into her windpipe. Picking up my discarded knife from the ground, I jam it into the ground, pinning her shirtsleeve to the hard-packed earth beneath her.

"You have no idea how long I've waited to do this," I say breathlessly, digging out another knife from the depths of my jacket. "Where's Lover Boy? He dead yet?"

"Peeta!" Katniss screams at the top of her lungs, but I silence her by pressing the flat side of my knife to her lips.

"Hush, darling," I say softly. "No one's going to save you now. You're going to die like Rue, and there's nothing you can do about it." Just as I open a cut at the corner of her mouth, someone yanks me off Katniss like I weigh nothing, like I'm a rag doll, and throws me to the ground five feet away.

"You kill her? You kill the little girl? I heard you say her name!" Thresh's arm closes around my throat, and I'm left gasping for air.

"It wasn't me, I didn't do it! Cato!"

I see the rock too late. Thresh brings it down on my skull, a sickening crack piercing the air. My breathing becomes labored, and I grab my head in both hands and sob. I didn't want my life to end, not like this—not when there was a chance Cato and I might both make it out of the arena…for a few seconds, I lay coiled up on the grass. Thresh and Katniss are gone, and Cato has knelt beside me. He takes my hand in his, a single tear dripping down his sweaty face, and I'm still crying, my chest heaving, my heartbeat slowing, and then everything goes black.


End file.
